


Show A Little Faith

by tqpannie



Series: The Faith Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets fed up with Hermione after Ron comes back and sets her straight about a few things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show A Little Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to simons_flower for the beta This story is a prequel to my other two stories. Faith Renewed and Have a Little Faith Bolded and italicized words borrowed with love from JKR

“You’ve completely forgiven him?” Hermione muttered as she looked at me over the top of her book. “Just like that?”

I continued to reset the charms around the stove so we didn’t catch the tent on fire while cooking breakfast and I wondered how long Ron was going to be gone.

“Yes, Hermione,” I said firmly. “You should too. Can’t you understand why he left?”

Hermione threw her book on the table and stood up. As she walked towards me I swear I could see smoke coming from her nostrils. She’s almost scarier than Voldemort when she gets like this.

“Forgive him for abandoning us? Leaving us to die without him?”

I studied Hermione for several moments as she bent to get the tea kettle from the cupboard.

“He just took off,” she hissed. “Left us high and dry so he could have the comfort of his own bed and his mum’s cooking!”

Anger ripped through me and I cast the final charm over the stove so that it would be ready when Ron got back.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hermione,” I said firmly as I tried to rein my temper back. “You really don’t.”

Hermione stomped her foot and filled the tea kettle with water from the jug she’d kept in her knapsack. She slammed the kettle down and shook her finger at me. The thought that sometimes she was very much like Ron’s mum filtered through my head, making me briefly wonder if she was taking lessons.

“I know this,” Hermione snarled. “He left me here. He didn’t care that I was calling out to him. He didn’t care if we finished this or not. Creature comforts were more important to him, and to be honest, hasn’t that been the way it always been?”

I’ve been angry before but I’d never felt this type of anger towards Hermione. I stared, dumbfounded, at her for a moment and took several deep breaths.

“Hermione,” I said, stepping forward and grasping her shoulders. “Sit down at the kitchen table and don’t speak again until I’ve had my say.”

Hermione squeaked in protest and I leveled her own wand at her. Her eyes widened as she sunk down in the chair. When she crossed her arms over her chest, she let out a sort of huffing noise. Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes were suspiciously wet, and her cheeks were bright red with anger.

Our eyes met and I felt most of my anger drain away. Hermione dealt in logic and her feelings for Ron weren’t logical and orderly. I think she was angrier that he left her than the fact he left us but she didn’t have all of the facts. She didn’t mean what she was saying; she was hurt, and it was her defense—just like the canaries. I knelt on the floor in front of her and took her hands in mine. I briefly worried about Ron coming in but I believed that he finally understood that Hermione was nothing more to me than a sister.

I rubbed her hands and looked up at her. There were tears on her eyelashes.

“Hermione,” I began and squeezed her hands. “I have to tell you what happened out there with the locket.”

“Did something happen to Ron while he was destroying the locket? Something the two of you aren’t telling me?”

“Well, sort of,” I responded, squeezing her hands. “You’ve always been pretty insightful about Ron—in fact you were the one that said he’d do better at Quidditch without Fred and George there.”

Hermione nodded. “They didn’t do much for his confidence. I’ve always known that Ron could be great if he just believed in himself.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

Hermione blinked several times and shook her head. “I didn’t think I had to. I mean I’ve…I’ve shown him haven’t I…I mean he knows how I feel about him…”

Hermione blushed bright red and fidgeted in her chair.

“But you hit it right on the mark, Hermione,” I replied. “He’s never known how important he is to both of us. We just assumed that he knew and he didn’t. He doesn’t think that.”

Hermione studied me for several long minutes, her eyes searching mine intently, before pulling her hands free to raise her fingers to her mouth.

“But he has to know, I’ve all but told him how I feel,” Hermione gasped. “Harry—the locket was affecting him more than it affected either of us! What happened out there? What did the locket do you when it opened?”

I felt my stomach clench and briefly wondered if I was betraying Ron’s confidence by telling Hermione. She needed to know, she needed to have all the facts, and if I didn’t tell her now she would nag me until I did.

“It wasn’t horrible at first, but it got progressively worse. You and I were in there, Hermione.”

Hermione fingers trembled slightly against my palm. Her voice was almost meek when she spoke and I watched her swallow hard.

“Tell me, Harry.”

“You can’t tell, Ron. You can’t let on that you know. Have you ever seen Ron cry, except at Dumbledore’s funeral? I mean think about it Hermione, when he broke his leg he stood up and tried to protect me from Sirius, when his dad was bitten by Nagini he comforted Ginny, and even when he thought Scabbers was dead, he didn’t cry.”

“I won’t tell him. Harry, you’re scaring me.”

“The locket taunted him—Riddle’s soul was in the locket and somehow it was able to project Ron’s fears, all his insecurities.”

“Insecurities about us?”

I nodded and repeated the words that the locket-Riddle had tormented Ron with.

“Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter . . . Least loved,  
now, by the girl who prefers your friend . . . Second best, always, eternally overshadowed . . .” 

Hermione bent her head and whispered, “He really doesn’t know it’s always been him? Since first year...he doesn’t know I came into the compartment because of him?”

I wondered briefly what she meant by that and decided that would be a question for another time. I nodded and swallowed hard before continuing.

“It got worse, Hermione,” I said hoarsely, struggling to get the words out past the lump in my throat. “You and I came out of the locket and kissed. We taunted him, Hermione, and I wasn’t sure he was going to be able to destroy the locket.”

Hermione sniffled and whispered, “I thought he knew…I mean you’re attractive and all that but I don’t think of you...never have. I thought he knew.”

“Well thanks for that, but I thought he knew too.” I grabbed one of her hands and squeezed again. “Ron left because of the locket not because he didn’t care about us. He just couldn’t shake the images and the feelings the locket played on. He loves you, Hermione.”

Hermione waved her free hand. “I know that—I’ve known that for a long time he’s just a bit thick and I…I didn’t want him to think I was scarlet woman chasing him.”

I chuckled softly. “Of course you knew. The only one who didn’t know after the Yule Ball was possibly Ron and maybe Neville. That’s why none of the boys in our dormitory ever asked you out. They liked their bits where they were and Ron can be a bit intimidating when he wants to be.”

Hermione stood up and smoothed her hair before pulling at her jumper. She glanced at the tent flaps and stood on her toes to kiss my cheek.

“I’m going to go to the loo,” she said. “It wouldn’t do for him to think I was crying. I’ll have to be a bit more direct won’t I?”

I nodded and sat down in the chair to study Hermione’s notes. “Don’t be too direct, Hermione. I don’t want to have to have the big brother talk with Ron.”

Hermione snorted and moved towards the loo, pausing in the doorway and turning to me. “Thanks for telling him. I’ll still have to give him a hard time for a couple of days or he’ll think I’m a polyjuiced Death Eater, but before this is over I will tell him how I feel.”

I heard the snow crunching outside the tent and the sound of Ron whistling. I nodded and winked at Hermione.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell him. Show him instead.” I grinned and stood up to meet Ron at the entrance to the tent. “It worked for Ginny.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and the loo door swung shut behind her.

“Harry,” Ron called out from just outside the tent. “Get the flap would, ya? I’ve got an arm load.”

I opened the flaps and allowed Ron to pass inside. He stomped his feet, shaking the snow off his trainers, and shook the snow from his hair.

“Where’s Hermione?”

“Loo.” I took several logs from him and went to light the stove.

“Is she still angry with me?” Ron asked and I could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“A bit,” I grinned. “I still have her wand, though, so I think it’s safe for you to stay.”

Ron’s lips twitched and he move to set a pail of water on the stove.

“Good,” he sighed. “I was awfully scared she might hex my bollocks off.”

“Nah,” I laughed. “She’d aim for a bigger target.”

“Prat,” Ron muttered and shrugged off his jacket as Hermione came out of the loo. “Morning, Hermione.”

“Hello, Ronald. You should really go over the notes I’ve made and see what you think.”

I watched the two of them. When Ron gave Hermione a tentative smile and she nodded, I felt relief flood through me. I got busy making breakfast and thought to myself that everything was going to be just fine.

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